In the distance, voices could still be heard coming from inside the tavern.
The people inside are unaware of what is happening outside.
Lynn wrapped Awen's head in a cloth and tucked it into his waistband, then bent down and picked up a scrap machete.
"What do we do next?" he asked.
Toothy swallowed hard.
Its voice was still trembling, but its tone had changed.
"Take Awen's head to the Xiaobudian."
Lynn nodded.
Toothy took a deep breath, turned around, and walked towards Xiaobudian's territory.
Lynn followed behind it, carrying the head, into the night.
After walking a few steps, Toothy suddenly stopped and turned back to look at him.
" Seven-Smasha," it said.
"Um?"
"Then you..." It paused, seemingly choosing its words carefully.
Do you want to be this cadre yourself?
Lynn gave a barely perceptible smile.
"You'll always be my boss."
After saying that, he continued walking forward, leaving Toothy bewildered in the wind.
Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the favorability rating constantly refreshing on the system interface.
The two men carried Awen by the head toward Xiaobudian's territory.
As Toothy walked ahead, even the smell of Squig's feces seemed sweet.
Suddenly, it stopped.
"We can't just go like this," it said, its eyes darting around.
"Go empty-handed; the Xiaobudian won't take us seriously."
Lynn stopped walking and waited for it to continue.
Toothy stood there for a while, then slapped her thigh:
"Let's go to Awen's stronghold first! That guy's been a cadre for almost three months now, he must have accumulated quite a few teeth by now!"
Lynn nodded; this Gretchin was smarter than he had imagined.
Awen's base is located next to the Muscle Squig Park, very close to the fence, making it convenient to pay wages.
It was a two-story building made of scrap iron sheets and wooden planks. Although it was dilapidated, it was dozens of times larger than Toothy's shack.
Several strings of Squig tails hung on top, serving as Awen's "trademark".
A few henchmen on night duty stood at the entrance, clutching sticks and broken knives, dozing off against the wall.
Hearing footsteps, they were startled awake and grabbed their weapons.
"Who's there? Stop right there!"
Toothy straightened her chest and lifted Awen's head up.
Under the moonlight, the still-bleeding head was clearly visible, the lower half of the face missing, and the eyes wide open.
The underlings got a clear look at Toothy's face, and the faintly visible purple figure behind it.
The underlings who had just escaped from the tavern had already spread the news.
Awen was killed by a purple monster under Toothy's command; his head was ripped off alive, and blood splattered all over the ground.
Their faces turned deathly pale instantly, and they dropped their weapons and ran away.
In less than ten seconds, all the Gretchin in the hideout had fled, without even having time to close the door.
Lynn and Toothy swaggered into the stronghold.
Awen's office was on the second floor, and it was piled with all sorts of messy things.
Rags, bones, rusty parts, a broken knife.
The air smelled musty and fermented with alcohol, so strong it hurt my eyes.
Toothy started rummaging through drawers and cabinets.
It first pulled out an iron box containing dozens of ordinary teeth.
"This is the remaining wages for the workers." It casually emptied the teeth into its own pocket.
Teeth were hidden everywhere: under the table, under the bed, and in a broken jar in the corner.
But they are all just scattered ordinary teeth, not many in total.
Lynn frowned.
How could someone who's been a cadre for so long have so little wealth? That doesn't make sense.
Toothy wasn't giving up. It lay down on the ground and started banging and tapping on the floor.
When the wood was tapped, the sound was clearly off.
The bottom is empty.
The two men pried open the wooden planks, revealing a narrow staircase leading to a cellar.
The cellar wasn't large, but it contained three wooden crates neatly arranged inside.
The wooden crate was made from a repurposed ammunition box and still bears the emblem of the Imperium of Man, though it's worn away and illegible.
Toothy opened the first box and was instantly stunned.
It was a whole box full of teeth.
These aren't ordinary teeth; they're top-quality, premium teeth.
Each one was perfect, with a golden sheen, like small pieces of gold.
One such tooth is equivalent to at least three normal teeth.
It opened the second and third boxes, both of which were filled with exquisite teeth.
Three wooden crates, containing at least 1,500 exquisite teeth.
Toothy stood in front of the box, her whole body trembling uncontrollably.
It looked down at the necklace of stone-polished false teeth around its neck, then at the genuine, exquisite teeth in the box.
Compared to the exquisite dental prostheses, those dentures seemed like fireflies vying for brilliance with the moon.
Then it jumped into a wooden box, buried itself in the pile of teeth, and started crying.
It didn't wail loudly; it shed tears silently.
Those tears dripped onto my teeth, washing them even brighter.
Its shoulders twitched, and its thin body was curled up in a ball amidst its teeth.
"I never thought..." its voice trailed off.
"I never imagined I'd have so many teeth..."
Lynn stood at the cellar entrance, watching it silently.
He wondered what this Gretchin would do after acquiring so much wealth.
Should we hoard them like misers, or take them out and squander them?
Or... they may have other plans.
Toothy lay among the pile of teeth for a long time.
It held those teeth, counting them one by one.
A total of 1,531 exquisite teeth.
Its eyes were shining, and its face was covered in snot and tears.
But it didn't remain immersed in ecstasy forever.
After a long while, it closed the boxes one by one, clapped its hands, and took a deep breath.
Lynn noticed that its eyes had changed.
It's like someone who's been poor their whole life suddenly winning millions in the lottery—not crazy, not stupid.
Instead, they were thinking about how to turn that money into even more money.
He nodded with satisfaction.
After crawling out of the cellar, Toothy pulled out a handful of ordinary teeth that he had just grabbed.
Then it went outside the stronghold and shouted loudly:
"I need a few people to help me carry this box! The reward is two regular teeth!"
The sound carried through the night, echoing among the piles of scrap and dilapidated sheds.
The hidden Gretchin peeked out and looked at each other.
Two teeth? Just for carrying a box, this is a good deal!
Soon, six bold Gretchin ran over and crowded in front of Toothy, bowing and scraping.
Toothy chose two strong men to guard the outpost, and four others to carry the boxes.
Four Gretchin carried two wooden crates containing a thousand exquisite teeth, following behind Toothy.
Lynn walked further back, her purple figure blending into the night like a wisp of non-existent mist.
Toothy walked at the very front, her steps steady.
It was humming a little tune, way off-key, but it was singing happily:
"Teeth are a hero's courage~~~"
It didn't take all three boxes with it, leaving one in the basement's cellar.
Lynn watched its retreating figure, thinking to herself that she hadn't made the wrong choice.
In the world of the Orks, greed is instinct.
Self-control is a skill.